You're a mystery to me. You're quiet. I don't know if it's just when you're around me, or only when alcohol is easing you're nerves. I don't know who you are, but I know that I want to find out. You're this magical mystery. A book waiting to be opened. I want to read every page and try to understand and then re read your story again. I'd search for my name and see if I'm anywhere in those pages. I'd look for what you've done, and what's made you the person you are. I'd look for your passion and your pains. I'd look for anything and everything that would bring me closer to you. It's almost crazy how much I want to read your story. How much I want to be around you. How much I want to learn from you. I just want that chance. So whether it's the comforting caress of alcohol, or if you're simply just shy, I wish I could make you open up. I wish I could see the "you" that's in there under your oh so smooth and entrancing exterior.